Dusty Wentworth

A family day out to Lowestoft: masculinity, memory, disability, and sugar-fuelled mayhem. ☕ Morning Mayhem, Meds, and Mobilisation We woke to the unmistakable clatter of the bin men — too late for the garden waste, again. That sort of domestic defeat where you just sigh into your slippers and accept it. Coffee became the consolation prize. While the kettle hissed, I began my usual breakfast — 14 tablets, swallowed one by one in silence. Not exactly a fry-up, but my body has its own checklist before the rest of me is allowed to function. Still half-asleep, I cradled my coffee like a shield while the kids launched their morning offensive: Can we get chips? Are we having ice cream? Can we paddle? Their enthusiasm came in rapid bursts — relentless, chaotic, but hilarious. I negotiated a ceasefire long enough to pack the car. The power chair made the cut today — the manual’s fine when I’m steady, but energy is a currency I need to spend wisely. With snacks, sun cream, and a heal...